April 12th: National Catch and Release Day

Hey there, good people. The river’s calling today – April 12th, National Catch and Release Day. Second Saturday in April, when the water’s running high with snowmelt and philosophy.

Been thinking about the peculiar dance we do with those shimmering creatures beneath the surface. Cast a line, set a hook, feel that electric connection to something wild, then let it go. There’s a koan in there somewhere, isn’t there? The paradox of pursuing what you intend to release.

You wade out into that cold mountain stream, your feet finding purchase between slick stones, the current pressing against your legs like time itself. You’re both intruder and participant in this ancient system. The rod becomes an extension of your arm, your intentions, your very consciousness.

And when that trout takes the fly – that moment of connection, that silver flash beneath the surface – something primal ignites. For a brief interlude, you’re linked to a creature whose ancestors swam these waters since before humans dreamed up fishing rods or philosophy.

Then comes the gentle art of bringing it in without harm. Wet hands to protect the delicate slime coat. Barbless hooks that slip free with minimal damage. The careful cradling of something wild, something other, holding it just long enough to acknowledge the encounter before watching it dart back into the depths.

What other pursuit involves such care for the pursued? Such reverence for what we temporarily possess?

Maybe catch and release fishing is one of the purest forms of relationship with the natural world we’ve managed to cultivate. We seek connection without consumption. Contact without conquest. A moment of holding what belongs to wildness, then giving it back.

The fish swims away with a story it can’t tell. We walk away with one we struggle to articulate. Something about beauty, mortality, respect, and the strange courage of letting go what you worked so hard to catch.

So today, whether you’re standing thigh-deep in moving water or just moving through your day, consider what it means to hold something precious briefly, then release it back to its own journey.

The river keeps flowing. That’s the only constant.